I Pretend You Hear Me Now

You,

Before you went out that door – how long has it been? Fuck. Years. More. A lifetime. We were so young. They tell you that the young don’t know what love is, but they are wrong: we did.

It wasn’t lust that had us looking at stars while I explained blue shifts to you, nor puppy-love that made you hold my left wrist – weakened after the accident – much, much gentler than my right. It wasn’t affection that had me throwing paint at the walls in screaming orgasmic anger when you stood me up five nights a row because you had issues – and it certainly wasn’t hatred in your salty tears the first time you pushed me down on the bed and bruised me silent.

Art sends beautiful people insane. Am I allowed to say that you were beautiful? I don’t remember what you looked like. I remember the red hair – it looked like a wig, it was metallic and stiff and hung over your shoulders. I remember you squinting at me against the sunlight. I remember thinking Gods, GODS, I want her. I don’t remember what you looked like but you were beautiful. So you had the package: one unit beauty, two units art, ten units Hello Mr Cuckoo. I didn’t sleep around. I didn’t think you were fat. I didn’t think you were thin. (You were beautiful. A goddess. Freaky Willow without a Xander; Freaky you with only me.)

The night before, I read Salinger in bed. Seymour blew his brains out and the air was pummelled out my body as you leapt on me, as you nuzzled my glasses off my face, as I screamed because I could not see and could not breathe I screamed until you placed your lips on mine your tongue tasted of strawberries and smoke your fingers soon tasted of me.

I returned the favour.

And yet: You went out that door. You glared at me, swung on your heel. Your hips, denimed and mineminemine! swung farther out and you fucking sashayed to the door. It was a flourish as it opened; you tapped smartly out. I stared at your ass as you left, and I wanted to say, don’t go. But it was your fault, not mine. This is the worst relationship I’ve ever shared.

I see that door. I see you walking away. I say, Baby I love you. Please Stay.

And you do.

Me

One response to “I Pretend You Hear Me Now

  1. so.fucking.good.

    really.

    i should come here more often. so should you🙂

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